


Arrests, Assholes, and Aliens

by DangerDoctor



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerDoctor/pseuds/DangerDoctor
Summary: This all started with a “field trip.” Well, Alfred thought it was a field trip. Allan knew better.A.k.a. Allan finds himself in a sticky situation after Alfred decides to get them into this mess, and now they're on a really weird "road trip", if anyone can call it that.





	Arrests, Assholes, and Aliens

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago pls don't judge too hard
> 
> rated mature for cussing, general sexual innuendos and the mention of dildos

 

 

“Oh, hush, darlin’. You’re going to get yourself hurt again.” 

“Yeah, but - don’t you think - if I just -”

“I’m giving you one more chance to shut the hell up.” Quoting that video was always nice.

“But you can’t really -”

“Listen, I’ll rip out your vocal cords so hard that they’ll actually be fuckin’ convinced that you and I are aliens. You’d probably survive, but it’d still be painful as fuck.”  The sound of silence. Allan grinned as he looked around the blank room. Well, blank except for a toilet, a sink, and this shitty bunk bed.

This all started with a “field trip.” Well, Alfred thought it was a field trip. Allan knew better.

One rainy afternoon, some dumb cop decided it’d be cool to stop Allan for a random arrest. Allan had no idea why. To meet their ridiculous racist quotas, probably, but Alfred would probably bail him out pretty quickly anyways. After all, Alfred can’t really have America function right altogether with Allan being held in a prison cell.

But _this time_ , Alfred decided that instead of showing a simple government ID or paying up to get Allan out of jail, he’d stop the cops himself. By… by legit lifting the cop car up into the air and telling the cop that if he wanted it back, he’d have to come get it.

What an idiot. Allan groaned and rolled his eyes as he watched the cop drop Allan right on the spot as he stared at his car, presently in Alfred’s _one hand_. Sweeeet cheese and crackers, as Oliver would say. Well, that got the entire militarized police force right there _real fast_. Great job Alfred. Suddenly, there were about 20 policemen with shields and guns and a fucking helicopter surrounding Alfred.

Alfred chuckled softly, looking like the exact equivalent of the smiling-face-with-open-mouth-and-one-drop-of-sweat emoji as he slowly put the car back on the ground. “Hey, listen, guys… can’t we just, you know… work this out realll nicely, just uh - call Obama, I know him really well and everything, honestly..”

“Sure, and so do I.” A cop said as he handcuffed Alfred, holding a gun out right out at him. Yikes. Soon enough, both Allan and Alfred were thrown into the back of the car Alfred just had in his hand, a gun was pointed at them the entire time. Spectacular.

Until they were dropped off at a strange looking building neither of them had seen before, and thrown into what looked like a small tour bus from the outside. It was pretty much that, except with some sort of security guard inside of it sitting in the back with the two of them. Oh, and the interior looked like the presidential limousine or something. Not much, though. Not much. They weren’t allowed to get up, but otherwise, the boys were told they were permitted to play games or whatever. The guard even provided them with a checkerboard - how considerate.

“Where we headed??” Alfred asked, somehow _excited_ after almost having been the next headline in the news.

“Headquarters.” Was all the guard replied with, and Alfred could’ve easily acted for a 5 year old child in that moment with how his face lit up.

“Sweet! A field trip! I love those.” No response, until Allan decided to speak up.

“Alfred, I hope you’re aware we’re probably going to end up in, I don’t know, some highly secured ‘national security’ prison of _hell_.” Allan remarked quite bluntly as he laid out the checkerboard between the two of them on the little… counter, if it could be referred to as such.

“Nahh. Barack knows me man, like - that wouldn’t happen.”

“Do you think your precious _Barack_ even knows we’re here?”

“Of course he does!” Alfred said, pouting and crossing his arms. “I’ll call him right now, just -” he then looked at Allan in apparent defeat.

“Just… what?” Allan asked, smirking as he looked at Alfred’s absolutely _shocked_ face. “They took our phones, and you didn’t remember?”

“...shut up. I call red.” Alfred gathered all the red checkers to himself and started setting them out onto the checkerboard as Allan took the black ones and did the same.

They played checkers for about two and a half games before Alfred got bored of playing. “Hey, what state are we in now?” The guard simply shrugged as Allan tried to look out the heavily tinted window best he could.

“Land looks really flat, so… middle of nowhere. Whether we’re in Virginia or Wyoming, I don’t know, though.” Allan squinted out into the distance. “Mm, speed limit’s eighty. We going fast enough, driver?” Again, no response from these robotic individuals.

“Whatever. This is cool.” Alfred said, leaning back in his seat as he folded the checkerboard and its contents away.

“You call being abducted by government officials and being shipped away to the middle of nowhere _cool_?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess so.” Allan looked out the window, and eventually Alfred pressed his face next to Allan’s to look out the window as well.

“See anything?”

“Hard to see with your fat cheeks in the way, but -”

“Hey! That’s rude.”

“You think I don’t know?” Allan rolled his eyes as he turned back to the window-watching. Oh, there was a green sign coming up… “Oh, hey. I-80. We’re going west. We’ve been going for about two hours, so, uh… maybe we’re in Pennsylvania. Can’t be further west than that, I don’t think.”

“Hmm.” Alfred said, nodding as he turned his face away from the window and back towards Allan. “So. Mr. Guard, can you at least tell us when our first stop is?”

“Seven hours.”

“Damn.” Allan and Alfred both looked at the other as they both uttered the same word after that answer. Hey, great minds think alike. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain at its finest.

Seven _agonizing_ hours later, they ended up in a nice Hampton Inn in Elyria, Ohio. Definitely on their way west. First though, of course, they had to stop at the Midway Mall, as their Security Guard Man explained, “for clothes and other hygienic amenities.” Turned out, the guard was right about getting clothes and ‘other hygienic amenities’, because they really went all out and shit. They even went to a restaurant for dinner - it wasn’t even a McDonald’s, it was actually a nice place and everything - kind of resembled a Taco Mac.

The place was called Harry Buffalo, and man, did Allan and Alfred enjoy themselves there. Of course, they weren’t allowed to drink anything nice, but Coca-Cola did just fine with _pretzel nachos_ and _boom boom shrimp_ . Pretzel chips and cheese sauce, shrimp and boom boom sauce, how could things get any _better_? Even Allan started to believe they were on a field trip and not international prisoners. He ordered the Motherclucker sandwich, and Alfred ordered the Big ‘Merica Burger. Absolutely delicious.  

You’d think that after dinner they wouldn’t even get dessert too, but hey, this was America - anything’s possible. Especially chocolate, and that is exactly why their next shop was Malley’s Chocolates. TBH, the guard and driver probably were just treating themselves and were just nice enough to give Allan and Alfred the choice of chocolate too. Well, there was a super sweet deal on the Republican National Convention box of chocolates, so they got that. Despite Allan nearly puking at the sight of Donald J. Trump’s face, the chocolate made _everything_ worth it.

And for some absolutely _insane_ reason (also known as constant annoying begging), the two men were allowed into Spencer’s. However, after much inappropriate laughter about a “midget love doll,” “the dickable football,” “the tushy tamer,” and glass dildos, they were understandably kicked out of the Spencer’s facility. They did leave with some golden handcuffs, though, because Allan demanded they be “handcuffed in style or else I’m just going to break right fucking through your lame-ass gray ones.”

Even after all this, though, the guard and driver were still so generous that they gave Allan and Alfred the _choice_ of _freedom_ \- well, not freedom, but close enough - _shoes._ They had the wonderful choice of a pair of shoes and even a pair of _boots_. Naturally, they went to Journey’s to get some rad Vans Sk8 Hi Skate Shoes, with Allan getting a red and black pair and Alfred getting “Acid Denim,” which he had a whole lot of fun laughing about. They then went to Sears to get clothes, “hygienic amenities,” and their other pair of footwear. Allan decided to choose some really rad, faux leather, knee-high black boots with really great heels and buckles, and Alfred went with some kick-ass cowboy boots with the American flag practically ingrained into them.

After the shoe business was done, it was pretty simple stuff. A few t-shirts, some socks, two pairs of jeans each, a jacket, and underwear. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, razors that they weren’t allowed to hold, shaving cream, and cheap “sweet lilac” deodorant. Then there were the only tissues that Sears had in stock - My Little Pony 6-packs - and some very interesting cheap perfume that smelled a lot like grapefruit. However, the highlight of the end of Allan and Alfred’s fun little shopping trip were getting some pillows to “rest in the vehicle.” They were given a choice of, naturally, the clearance pillows. However, why get plain white fluffy pillows when you can get _branded_ fluffy pillows? Allan went with a really neat Spiderman pillow, and Alfred went with a pillow that had _Cars_ ’ Mater and Lightning McQueen plastered onto it. And soon after, it was back to the hotel they went.

With all the new swag they had just gotten, it actually seemed a lot like a field trip, but alas, alas - they must remain focused on the situation at hand: they were still prisoners, or so Allan was convinced. Alfred was still convinced that by divine providence Obama had contacted these mysterious people to bring him to some place awesome. Keep dreaming, Alfred. Speaking of dreaming, though, Alfred and Allan had to sleep in the same bed, and Allan, naturally, thought it would be amusing to mess with Alfred. Just a little.

“Hey, hey Alfred,” he whispered after hearing the guard’s snores join the once-silence of the room.

“What?”

“Well, uh. How many pieces of chocolate did you eat before we got back? Because I wanna know how many we’ve got for tomorrow.”

“Uhhhh… I think, like, maybe five?” Alfred shrugged, turning his back to the other. “Go to sleep.”

“Sleep? Nobody needs sleep. C’mon. C’mere.” Allan reached an arm around Alfred and pulled him closer, only in order to tickle the other man’s stomach.

“Seriously, Al, I don’t -” Alfred’s next sentence was so _unfortunately_ interrupted, however, by a fit of giggles and swatting at Allan’s arm. “Ssstooooooop it,” he mumbled between laughs, before delivering a greatly-aimed kick at Allan between his legs.

“ALF-” And in turn, Allan was interrupted by the silence of the guard. “..shit,” he whispered, turning immediately away from Alfred and shutting the fuck up. Had to be quiet to avoid being like, shot or something, y’know?

And thus, the dream times began.

_Damn, there were just… so many of them. So many … so many women in skirts, just… there. Oh, and only in skirts. Not that Alfred minded, he was all for topless freedom and all that, but… damn. But they weren’t even real women. They were… mannequins. Yes, that must’ve been why they weren’t moving while standing. Or perhaps they were androids. Either way, Alfred walked right past them in through a door that seemed connected to absolutely nothing._

_After walking through that door, there were… men in skirts. Again, topless, but not moving a muscle. Alright. Alfred’s instinct told him to keep going onto the next door, so he did exactly that. Through the next door was a blank room with a single black chair, surrounded by solid red walls. And there was…. crap. Bad childhood memories. Next door, next door -_

_Alfred finally found another door after a few minutes of being traumatized by his past, and this door held three people of indeterminable gender. And a talk show host that was wearing a nametag that said he was apparently Trevor Noah._

_Except, this time, Trevor Noah was running not the Daily Show, but some sort of game show where Alfred was now the contestant._

_“Alright now, Mr. Jones, all you’ve got to do is choose the date you like best, kiss them, and then you have the perfect date!” Mr. Trevor Noah man said, and while that might not sound like it made much sense, in Alfred F. Jones’s odd little dream world, it made perfect sense, and suddenly Alfred remembered pretty much everything about the contestants._

_“I pick… um… Pikachu!” Upon waking up, Alfred would remember that the dream person he chose didn’t even look like anything ever even related to Pikachu, but hey. It made sense then. He stood up in standard procedure, approached the very happy-looking-person-who-was-apparently-named-Pikachu, and kissed them in a beautiful dip. It was amazing, really, it was._

_You couldn’t expect Allan’s dreams to be any different. They ranged from unicorns on clouds to badass James Bond-like scenes to pure sexual fantasies. This time, it just happened to be the latter. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, he just happened to be making out with a woman in a bed and that was pretty much the most of it before he woke up. What? Sometimes his dreams just weren’t that interesting, alright?_

Anyways, Allan was rudely awakened by a very heavy shake of his ENTIRE BODY. He blinked his eyes a few times and felt his lips on someone else’s. Ah, nice. Someone kissing and shaking him good morning. Sounded good to him. That whole police thing was just a dream, and - shit. His lips were on Alfred’s. Allan jumped back and turned around quickly, only to stare up directly up into the face of that tough-looking guard from yesterday. Fuuuuck. “Heh, hey there, sir, I just, thought I’d be -”

“Listen, I get that you might be friends, but nobody said you two were going to be making out.”

“No kidding! Neither did I!” Allan smiled wryly, looking from a still sleeping - and moving his mouth in a rather disturbing kissing motion - Alfred. “I had no idea, listen. I’d never kiss him on a normal night. Day, maybe, but just to mess with him, I mean - we’re not - we’re not like that. No homo, bro.”

“I see.” The guard turned to go back and pack whatever they had to pack, like the razors they were banned from touching and all that  good stuff.

Honestly, though? Allan really had no fucking clue why he was kissing Alfred Fuckin’ Jones in the middle of broad daylight other than the fact that he was a sleeping body next to him while he was having a rather sexual dream. That had to be it, of course, but - oh, good, Alfred had stopped making the Kardashian Selfie Faces now. Brilliant. Honestly, though… Allan decided to make a quick stop to the sink in the bathroom, where they were currently keeping the bucket of ice (which had now gone through the beautiful process of the water cycle and was pure _water_ ).

“Time to wake the fuck up, sunshine boy!!!” Allan literally shouted into Alfred’s ear as he literally poured every ounce of water within the bucket onto the other man - with no regrets.

Unfortunately, that got Allan a _special reward_ also known as handcuffs. Fuck. And he also got the lovely sound of Alfred complaining, which was almost more pleasing to Allan than the handcuffs. He practically _thrived_ off of Alfred’s complaints. Made him feel successful for once in his life.

Among these complaints were such _intelligent_ phrases such as “I can lose weight, but you’ll always be ugly as fuck,” “asshole casserole,” “bottom of the bitch barrel,” “flunky motherfucker,” “a real nut job,” “phony blowhard,” “low-class slob,” and before he could utter any more lovely words, there was a sound of a bit of a struggle and then silence. Allan couldn’t really see what was going on, since he was handcuffed and held on the other side of the room, but he figured the guard just shut Alfred up somehow. He had no idea how, though. Probably a cloth or tape or something. He didn’t really care necessarily.

However, when the guard told him to stand back up to leave, he laughed so fucking hard at the sight of Alfred’s mouth having a piece of cloth over it that he himself got one too. “Y’know I can still fuckin’ talk,” he mumbled through the piece of fabric, looking up at the guard in attempts to make some dumb attempt at talking.

“Sure, we’ll let you find out what happens if you keep at it.” That statement shut Allan up pretty quickly, actually, as they were told to carry suitcases down to the bus without a word. A tough man in a bulletproof suit, a man in a tuxedo, and two men with cloth around their mouths, one with handcuffs. A totally normal scene at the lovely Hampton Inn at Elyria.

“Hey, Mr. Guard man. I -” Allan backed away a little as the guard looked at him with a death stare for talking, “I just wanted to uh… leave a review.” Allan nodded his head over to a stack of paper cards on a desk near the hotel’s elevator, which were indeed intended for reviews of the hotel.

The guard simply raised an eyebrow and took the pen, holding it to the paper. With a deep sigh, he asked, “What would you like it to say?”

Allan was grinning so hard, but nobody could really see that. “You have super soft blankets in your beds. I woke up kissing a man and that was really fucking strange, but your blankets were so soft I forgave the man for his sins just like Jesus would have if he had super soft blankets like these dope-ass sheets you’ve got here. Love, no homo, the ‘no homo’ is in parentheses - Allan.”

The guard stared at him, and Allan stared directly at the paper as the guard only wrote his first statement and ‘I enjoyed them very much, they helped me sleep very well’ which was _not_ what Allan had said, but it was close enough. He’d shoot them an email later or something.

They all eventually reached the bus and climbed inside, ready for - as the driver said, thirty-one straight hours of driving, with breaks only for meals and bathroom breaks. Needless to say, both Allan and Alfred got their pillows and laid right back in the seats, falling asleep not long after for about… 7 hours. When they woke up, Alfred was almost completely on top of Allan, so Allan found it only natural to leap up into the air, sending Alfred right into the back of his seat. Didn’t look very pretty, but did the trick pretty well.

“Hey! What was that - ohhh…” Alfred acted as if he actually understood why Allan pushed him off, but instead Allan realised that the other man was actually staring directly at… a guard. Except, now there were two guards inside of the bus with the two ‘prisoners’. They had no clue where the second guard came from, but they were quite certain that there were now two guards.

The new guard was carrying a gun in their lap, and while that sort of spooked the two boys, it didn’t stop them from singing what they could of songs from 80s classics to Broadway to modern pop (with a meme or two every now and then) at all. In fact, it might have just encouraged Allan to belt out the first few lines of “Bohemian Rhapsody” even _more_ with the threat of his life being taken right from him. It also encouraged Allan to ‘jokingly’ hold Alfred’s hand while singing like an idiot, but that was absolutely _not important_.

Except, it sort of was a bit important when Alfred squeezed his hand back at the hits of every song and during the ballads caressed his hand with an ever-so-slight stroke of his thumb - no, Allan was definitely thinking _way_ too much into this. It was nothing, absolutely nothing. Nothing of importance, at least.

One restroom break consisted of waiting for-fucking-ever for Alfred to stop shitting in the bathroom, so Allan decided to make a small, tiny little doodle on his hand with a pen.

 

Allan thought that drawing summed up his feelings about the hot sun shining down on him in the middle of the day in Council Bluffs, Iowa pretty damn well. Weekday lunch at the HuHot Mongolian Grill in the town was only ten bucks a piece, so the five men enjoyed themselves as they created their own shmancy stir-fry dish, complete with all the noodles, meats, and veggies that they could ever want. However, as all good things come to an end, eventually it was time to hit the road for another nineteen fucking hours.

And needless to say, Alfred and Allan spent their time playing checkers and singing dumb road trip songs for about five hours on the way through the west, which they still assumed was where they were going, since they’d been on I-80 for… well, pretty much the entire drive. Were they going all the way to California? Was this all just a secret plan for a beach party?

They only wished it was that way. After singing a song from that one weird-as-fuck French opera about Mozart, they and the previous driver who was now giving his role up to one of the guards decided to sleep for about 10 hours. Finally, after three agonizing hours of doing absolutely fucking nothing because the guards _refused_ to hear any more of their “annoying” voices, they reached their destination. Except, they had no fuckin’ clue _where_ the hell they were.

“Hey. Hey, hey Al -” Alfred whispered as he leaned over to Allan, looking outside the window as he saw… absolutely fucking nothing. Alfred became silent for a moment even though Allan raised his eyebrow at him, awaiting a response. About five minutes later, the blonde gasped. “Holy shit, Allan, we’re in - we’re going to…. dude.”

Allan scoffed, looking out the window. “Where to? Disneyland? Death Valley? Boy, could I use the sweet release of death right now, and don’t you know it, too -”

“No! No, no, not - not .. not those. Think about it. We’re in the middle of the desert, on a long highway that’s actually not I-80 anymore, and I just saw a sign for Rachel. As in Rachel, Nevada.” Alfred looked at him like it was real fucking obvious, but it really wasn’t.

“Ah. So… they’re killing us in a… desert?”

“Dude, they’re not killing us. They’re showing us the alien exhibits! They’re literally taking this bus right down the good ol’ Extraterrestrial Highway to Area 51!” he said as if this predicament was a _good_ thing.

“Oh. Great, I’m very thrilled, Alfred. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my time as these armed guards lead me into a literal fucking _U.S. Air Force Base_ .” Allan rolled his eyes as he felt the bus halt to a stop in front of a small, broken-down looking gate. Yeah, it was definitely Area 51. Joy. Peace. Allan was sure to feel those feelings sometime, but today was definitely _not_ that day.

“Aw, but they can’t - I mean, Obama -” Alfred murmured as the five men got off the bus with their bags and trudged through dirt for a while before actually reaching the top secret building, where they were proceeded to get thrown into a cell. Fun. And thus, in the middle of the night, we come back to a lovely scene atop the creaky, dusty, and just generally shitty bunk beds that sat in this cell apparently either used for Area 51 trespassers, or for - wait for it - _aliens_.

Allan really _thought_ he had gotten Alfred to shut up while they were trying to sleep, but Alfred came right back with some question that, when the blonde opened his damn mouth, Allan just assumed would be absolutely fucking idiotic.

“Allan, do you think we’ll live?”

“Not if you don’t shut your fucking mouth and actually _sleep_ for once.” The sound of sweet silence for a moment, but then… well.

“I’m… I’m actually serious, though.” Allan could hear Alfred sit up in his bed, and he could also hear the slightly nervous tone in Alfred’s voice. He never thought he’d see the day Alfred F. Jones would be actually nervous about living, but hey, here it was, plain as day,

“Yeah, sure. We’re immortal, of course we’ll -”

“But us. You know, like - I mean, like you, and me, and our - um, I’ll just - sleep.” The sound of blankets rustling and Alfred laying back in his bed. Allan decided then to get up and go over to the sink. He turned on the water, and - nothing came out of it. Oh. Well, that sucked. He went back over to the bunk bed and looked right at the back of Alfred’s head.

“Hey, sweetcakes. Turn around.” He put a hand on his hip as he waited for the other to eventually turn to face him. “You just sad because you’re not sleeping with me for once, or..?”

“No…! I just - I sleep with plenty of people all the time, like this one girl down the block from me in Boston, we sometimes -”

“Alfred.”

“It’s true!”

“Alfred, you’re not going to see a girl for weeks. Maybe even months, depending how long you’re here. You know that, don’t you?” Allan smirked up at the other as he hopped up and sat at the edge of Alfred’s bed.

“Of course I do! I don’t really care, though, it’s not like I need to be in a relationship or anything related to having one.” Alfred looked confused, puzzled almost as he sat up a little against the almost-non-existent headboard.

“Really? You don’t need hugs, kisses, sex… the very feeling of being loved by somebody else?” Allan raised an eyebrow as he leaned a bit closer to the other.

“No! Well - I mean, ah..” Alfred looked up at Allan for a moment, and then he finally fucking realized that Allan was actually making some sort of attempt to flirt with his ass.

“You ah…?” Allan questioned, laughing a little as he snuck a hand up Alfred’s shirt solely for the purpose of tickling the other man. The nearly immediate sound of giggles from Alfred was definitely enough to satisfy him.

“Can you n - Allan, oh my - can we just talk, please - ?” Alfred sputtered between his absolutely ridiculous amounts of laughter, causing Allan to actually stop and look right at him.

“Fine, we’ll talk. What about?” Allan asked as he laid down next to Alfred, being super careful not to fall off the edge of the bed.

“Well, I mean, if you - I just wanted to know if you… you know…”

“I know fully well about the collection of Marvel dildos, if that’s what you’re asking about.”

“No! Oh my fucking God, Allan, you can’t just - there’s probably surveillance cameras -”

“And? They can’t know about the Hulk dildo?”

“I don’t have a Hulk dildo and I never - why would I even..!?”

“Because you do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“ _Don’t.”_ Alfred looked right at Allan and crossed his arms.

“But you _do_.” Allan whispered into Alfred’s ear, “and the surveillance totally wouldn’t have caught that.”

“You can’t underestimate these cameras. We can’t even see where they are, they ought to be high-tech.”

“True, you’ve got a point there, babe.”

“Why are you -”

“Why am I…?” Allan turned on his side to face Alfred, and realized their faces were now within inches of each other. _Perfect_.

“You’re crazy.” Alfred stated, his blue eyes looking from the wall behind Allan to Allan’s face. And back again.

“Tell me something I don’t know, darlin’.” Allan shrugged, leaning forward and kissing Alfred’s forehead softly.

“You just kissed me.”

“I did.” Alfred looked at Allan blankly, trying to read some of his emotions. Allan was just so… nonchalant and casual about everything. Confident, even, in everything, it seemed. And Alfred was… Alfred was what? Confused? Curious? Frightened?

“I… I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Shouldn’t be, I’ve been flirting with you for literally years now, I’m sure of it.”

“On and off.”

“Off and on, your point?”

“Are you going to leave the switch on this time or…?”

“If you want.” Allan chuckled a bit, moving his hands in a gesture that read _sure, what the hell_ , before leaning in and kissing Alfred softly on the lips. The response he received was quite expected, as Alfred literally fucking kissed him like a crushing schoolgirl would her all-time dream crush: a bit hesitant, but one-hundred-percent _enthusiastically._ After a while Allan pulled away, and much to his surprise (or maybe not, really), Alfred kissed him again.

So naturally, Allan was not expecting that after they made out for about fifteen minutes or so, for Alfred to state the two cringeful words: “No homo.” Then again, he didn’t really expect to be detained in Area 51 either, but here they were. Allan laughed softly, looking at Alfred as he laid there. Having the audacity to make out with another man and then call it “no homo”? Yikes.

“Babe, you’re -” Allan paused, pursing his lips together as he thought for a moment, and then he heard Alfred hide a fucking snicker with his mouth closed. The brash audacity of this man was absolutely _stunning_ , really, it was. Allan rolled his eyes and decided to simply lean down and place some well-timed kisses down Alfred’s neck. “ _All_ the homo, darlin’, alright?”

“Mm - yeah. Same.” Alfred muttered, falling back into the senseless _ecstasy_ that was the absolute comfort of the kisses Allan was giving him right now, all the same forgetting about all those surveillance cameras he was so concerned about earlier.

Allan finally felt a little bit of peace at a fucking military base for once, and Alfred got his nerves completely calmed (well, most of them - some of them were actually aroused, but that’s aside the point). Most importantly, though, the two men actually learned that they had feelings for eachother, for the first time in like, years of _almost_ getting there  but _not quite_ getting to the conversation that needed to be had.

Strange that it takes a road trip to Area 51 to convince them to get together, but in that time, Allan realized that even if Alfred was a dumbass using his super strength and shit and getting them sent here while simultaneously thinking too much about everything before he did things, that was sort of a good thing - they most likely wouldn’t have gotten together if Alfred hadn’t realized that this was Area 51 and also asked Allan if pigeons had feelings. So, all was well, all was well with their souls.

 

\-------------- END PART ONE --------------

  
  
  


(allan: [heeled knee high black boots](http://www.sears.com/2-lips-too-women-s-too-jilt-20-1-2inch/p-054VA76292712P?prdNo=35&blockNo=35&blockType=G35#), Vans Sk8 Hi Skate Shoe red/black, nike) (alfred: [kneehigh cowboy boots](https://www.valleyvet.com/swatches/30455_L_000_vvs.jpg), same (acid denim) vans, nike)→ sears to get the boots [AND](http://www.sears.com/marvel-spider-man-bed-pillow/p-048W008126064001P?sellerId=KMART&prdNo=4&blockNo=4&blockType=G4) [PILLOWS](http://www.sears.com/disney-cars-bed-pillow-lightning-mcqueen-mater/p-048W008126059001P?sellerId=KMART&prdNo=5&blockNo=5&blockType=G5) and the [only tissues Sears sells](http://www.sears.com/my-little-pony-6-pk-face-tissue/p-07418620000P?prdNo=3&blockNo=3&blockType=G3), some [cheap but nice smelling deodorant](http://www.sears.com/degree-dry-protection-sheer-lilac-invisible-solid-anti/p-038W005762946001P?sellerId=KMART&prdNo=21&blockNo=21&blockType=G21), the [classic toothpaste/brush combo](http://www.sears.com/travel-brush-colgate-toothpaste-card-1-ct/p-038W006229310001P?sellerId=KMART&prdNo=3&blockNo=3&blockType=G3), [cheap perfume](http://www.jcpenney.com/etat-libre-dorange-remarkable-people-travel-spray/prod.jump?ppId=pp5007400031&Ns=PLH&searchTerm=fragrance&Ns=PLH&catId=SearchResults&_dyncharset=UTF-8).)


End file.
